


The One Where Jaskier is Sick and Sucks At Lying

by pansy_poison



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BFFs, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansy_poison/pseuds/pansy_poison
Summary: Jaskier doesn't want to be abandoned when he's sick so he pretends he's healthy. Geralt isn't fooled.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 180





	The One Where Jaskier is Sick and Sucks At Lying

Jaskier had been feeling under the weather for days now. He was able to ignore it and play it off as nothing but now he was in slight agony and it was harder to hide. On the first day, he woke up with one nostril blocked. Not too odd, he just assumed he'd slept a weird way or the inn's dust had collected in his sinuses during the night. Nothing extraordinary. He assumed it would pass during the day and, though it didn't, it would be gone by morning. 

The next day both nostrils were blocked and Jaskier had succumbed to being a mouth breather. This did arise suspicion from Geralt, who didn't like the sound of his new voice. "What's the matter with your voice, bard? It's more nasal and far more annoying than usual" he grunted, barely giving the mortal a side glance from his place mounted on Roach. Jaskier couldn't tell the Witcher the truth. No, it wasn't necessary. To complain that he was concerned about his health would be a surefire way to be dumped on the side of the path so he could find a medic and a bed. Both were very tempting but not as tempting as being by someone's side. 

"Oh, I'm trying new styles, dear Witcher! You have requested for me to sing new songs so I'm spreading my mighty wings and looking at other varieties" Jaskier exclaimed as joyfully as he could. It must have worked because Geralt did not call his bluff. 

The next three days, Jaskier got worse. And as did his lies. When he coughed heavily through the night, he had to move a few trees away from Geralt so he would not disturb his rest. It was time like these that he wished he wasn't a traveller and could have a guaranteed bed to sleep in each night. When he shivered with the chills, his excuse was that his clothes were still damp from the previous rainfall, and when he was starting to lose his balance with dizziness, he lied that he was swaying with the rhythm of the trees,enjoying the soft winds. This, of course, was Jaskier's weakest point and the beginning of Geralt's suspicion.

When Jaskier woke the next morning, he was shivering and sniffling worse than before. The ground was cold from morning dew which made it worse. His eyes were watery and red, his coughing was harder and more ragged. He jumped with fright when he felt a hand touch his forehead. 

"Fucking god's, Jaskier!" 

Jaskier looked up and in the sunlight, saw Geralt looking over him. That was strange. Usually they were up before dawn. And Geralt was sleeping many trees away the night before. He noticed a look on Geralt's face he'd never seen before. His eyes were intense, eyebrows knotted, lips pursed hard and jaw clenched.

Jaskier tried to sit up but found there was something weighted keeping his weak body down. He rolled his head forward and saw that Geralt's chest armour had been draped over him to keep the cold away. Oh, that was why Geralt was only in an undershirt. "You're sick" Geralt grunted, his hands going to Jaskier's underarms and helping him sit up. 

"Well, you see, that's subjective. See, to others, this might look like I'm sick, but really I'm fine. So fine! No need to make a fuss" Jaskier rambled, forcing a perky smile and making wild gestures with shaky clammy hands. "Come now, we have much to do." Geralt wasn't listening really at all, rummaging through a bag. 

"Hmm" he finally said, unconvinced. "If you say you're fine, you're fine. We will get back on the road. Drink this first" Geralt handed the bard a small purple vial. Jaskier examined it for a moment. Medicine perhaps? Fuck, he hoped it was medicine. He drank it in one go and smacked his lips together as he tried to understand the taste. "Ooh! Tastes like honey. Wait, and chamomile. And...lavender! Geralt, did you just feed me a sleeping potion?" He exclaimed. The Witcher, busy packing their things, smirked. "Well done, bard. Though, you're rather late -" 

"You drugged me!" Jaskier exclaimed, flailing his arms

"Don't be dramatic, Jaskier. I'm knocking you out until we get to an inn. Sweet dreams" Geralt grunted.

Jaskier could already feel the potion taking its toll. His head was heavy as he rolled it back to rest against the tree trunk. He couldn't talk much anymore, murmuring nonsense and empty groggy threats to Geralt before he fully blacked out into a deep sleep. 

Geralt crouched in front of Jaskier, taking his armour back and putting it on. He touched the musician's forehead again, a painful pang of worry in his gut. The illness worried him, but he knew it would pass. What worried him more was that Jaskier tried to keep this a secret from Geralt. He didn't like that. 

He hoisted Jaskier over his shoulder and slung him over Roach, giving her a rub on her nose before he started towards the nearest Inn. 

  
  


Jaskier woke slowly, his senses coming back one by one.

First, touch. He felt a gentle hand stroke his hair and cheek, he felt a weighted blanket warming his chilled body, he felt the soft cotton sheets under his fingers. He was in a bed. 

Second, taste. He could still taste the honey on his lips but his mouth also tasted of something else…a sweet elixir of some sort. Medicine. He had been fed medicine. 

Third, smell. He could smell burning firewood, a distant stench of ale and something familiar. It smelled like soap mixed with sweat, stale blood and an oil of some sort. It was Geralt's armour. Geralt was near. 

Fourth, hearing. He heard chatter and music through the floor beneath him. They were definitely at an inn. He could hear a wind outside and heavy rain. A storm. He could hear Geralt's soft breathing, resembling the small grunts he gave as a response to almost everything. 

Finally, sight. Jaskier opened his eyes carefully and looked around. He was correct in assuming they were at an inn. The room was small but he was on a large oak bed. In the corner was a big tub of water, used for bathing. The window indicated that there was a storm heaving outside, sending rain down like tiny vicious daggers and the wind squeaking through the floorboards everytime the inn door opened downstairs. 

He finally looked up and saw Geralt. He was sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the sheet either side of Jaskier's body, slightly hovering over the bard. 

"You're awake. I was starting to think the potion had put you out for good" Geralt grunted. 

Jaskier sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What happened while I was out?" He asked softly, blinking hard a few times. 

"I found us a place to spend the night right before the rain started. Innkeeper took one look at you and said he'd bring us whatever we need but keep the illness away from customers" The Witcher explained. He leaned over to the side table and put a bowl of broth in Jaskier's lap. "Eat. You were out for more than a day. You'll only get weaker if you don't" he grumbled. 

Jaskier did as he was told, eating the broth and taking the time to collect more information of what happened. So Geralt took him to the inn and - wait. 

"Did you _carry_ me Geralt?" He asked, smirking slightly at the thought of how ridiculous The Witcher must have looked carrying him around. 

"Would you prefer being dragged by the ankle around town? That was my second choice" Was the response he got. 

Jaskier chuckled, which turned into a small coughing fit. Geralt gently pushed him to lie back against the pillows. "Keep eating" he demanded. 

Jaskier nodded and shovelled down the broth until there was nothing left in the bowl. Geralt put it aside and frowned at the bard. 

"Why did you hide your illness from me?" He asked. He was looking at Jaskier with deep intensity now, enough to make the musician shift a little on the bed and only answer by looking at his hands. 

"I, uh, erm, okay, well...I thought it would pass. I thought it was a minor sickness and I'd get over it fine. I didn't _need_ to tell you" He tried to explain. 

"And when it got worse?"

"I knew telling you would only, uh, slow us down. Well, slow _you_ down. You'd insist that I get a medic and you'd progress on with your work. Without me." 

Geralt sat back slightly at that, examining Jaskier for a moment. "Jaskier. Look at me" he reached out and curled his finger under Jaskier's chin, tilting it up to look at him. 

"Good health gets a quest done faster. And easier" Geralt explained. Jaskier swallowed hard and nodded. 

"However, as much as I really hate saying this to an egotistical bard" Geralt rolled his eyes. "You're... important to me. And I wouldn't like to think about abandoning you. Ever."

Jaskier's face changed from anxious to rather...smitten. His eyes softened and seemed slightly larger, his cheeks were a rosy pink and he had a hopeful smile on his face. 

Jaskier sat up and threw his arms around Geralt with a cry of "Oh Geralt! I knew you liked me. I _knew_ my ballads would dig into your heart!" 

Geralt rolled his eyes and gently pushed Jaskier back on to the bed. "You're going to need a day or two to recover before we can leave again...", he observed. 

Jaskier wasn't really listening, just grinning brightly at the Witcher in front of him. He wouldn't have to be afraid of being alone anymore. Geralt had just given him a lifelong ticket to all his adventures. 

Though he was still weak, his spirits had never been higher. He shivered in his undershirt and pulled the blankets over himself more. "I can ask for more layers from the innkeeper" Geralt offered. 

Jaskier smiled. "Will you be joining me, dear Witcher?" He hummed. Geralt grunted. 

Jaskier whined. "C'moooon. I'm sick. You and I both know you won't catch it. You never heard that TLC is the best medicine?"

"I thought it was laughter."

"And whens the last time you made someone laugh?"

"Mm, fine. If it shuts you up."

Jaskier's face lit up as he watched Geralt undress and slip into the bed. Geralt grunted as Jaskier latched himself on to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. 

"Are you trying to make me hate you?" He grumbled. But he got no response as Jaskier nuzzled into his shoulder. 

Geralt sighed heavily and rested his hands on Jaskier's back. He wouldn't say it out loud. But seeing Jaskier's playful glint come back to his eye and seeing his annoying behaviours return greatly relieved him as it showed sign of recovery and got rid of the sting of worry in his chest every time Jaskier coughed or shivered.

So, on that stormy night, Geralt held Jaskier in his arms, instinctively pressing a few small kisses to the Bards brown hair any time he shifted with discomfort. Geralt sadly knew he cared for Jaskier more than he wanted to admit. But at least he could see Jaskier feeling the same for him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
